I remember that I could not contain myself for another moment. I stood, and holding wide my arms I twirled around in the darkness within the curtain of willow boughs and laughed joyously until, exhausted by the unaccustomed rush of emotion, I sank to the young grass, breathing hard and brushing from my face the thick fall of hair that had escaped my chignon.
“You should never stop laughing. When you do, your beauty changes from extraordinary to divine and you look like a goddess come to earth to tempt us with your untouchable loveliness.”
I’d scrambled to my feet, more thrilled than shocked as Arthur Simpton parted the willow boughs and stepped within.
“Mr. Simpton! I-I did not realize anyone was—”
“Mr. Simpton?” He’d cut me off with a warm, contagious smile. “Surely even your father would agree we need not be so formal here.”
My heart had been pounding so loudly that I believe it drowned out the sound of my good sense that was shouting at me to hold my words, smile, and return quickly inside, because instead of doing any of those three reasonable things, I’d blurted, “My father would not agree to us being alone in the garden together, no matter what I call you.”
Arthur’s smile had instantly dimmed. “Does your father disapprove of me?”
I shook my head. “No, no, it is nothing like that—or at least I don’t believe so. It is just that since Mother’s death, Father seems to disapprove of everything.”
“I am sure that is because he has so recently lost his wife.”
“As I have so recently lost my mother!” I’d had enough sense remaining to me to press my lips together in a tight line and stop my outburst. Beginning to feel nervous, and incredibly clumsy, I’d walked to the marble bench and sat, trying to tidy my escaping hair, as I’d continued, “Forgive me, Mr. Simpton. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.”
“Why ever not! Can we not be friends, Emily?” He’d followed me to the bench, but did not sit beside me.
“Yes,” I’d said softly, glad my errant hair hid my face. “I would like us to be friends.”
“Then you must call me Arthur and feel free to speak to me as you would a friend, and I will have to be certain your father finds nothing at all to disapprove of about me. I won’t even mention to him that I discovered you in the garden.”
My hands had instantly stilled and dropped from my hair. “Please, Arthur. If you are my friend, promise me you will not mention that you saw me after I left the dining room.”
I thought I saw what might have been surprise in his deep blue eyes, but it was replaced too soon by a kind, reassuring smile for me to have been sure. “Emily, I will say nothing of tonight to your father except to repeat what a lovely hostess his daughter was.”
“Thank you, Arthur.”
He did sit beside me then. Not close, but his scent came to me—cigars and something that was almost sweet. Thinking back I realize that was foolish. How could a man smell of sweetness? But I didn’t know him well enough yet to understand that the absence of strong spirits and cigars on his breath seemed sweet after Father’s foul odor.
“Do you come here often?” His question had seemed such an easy one to answer.
“Yes, I do.”
“And your father doesn’t know you do?”
I’d hesitated only a moment. His eyes were so kind—his gaze so honest—and he said he’d wanted to be my friend. Surely I could confide in him, but perhaps I should do so carefully. I’d shrugged nonchalantly and found an answer that was as truthful as it was vague. “Oh, Father is so busy with business that he rarely even notices the gardens.”
“But you like them?”
I’d nodded. “I do. They’re beautiful.”
“At night? But it’s so dark and you are so very alone.”
“Well, as you are my friend now I feel I can tell you a secret, even though it may not be very ladylike.” I’d smiled shyly up at him.
Arthur grinned mischievously. “Is it your secret that isn’t ladylike, or the telling of it to me?”
“I am afraid perhaps it is both.” My shyness had begun to evaporate, and I’d even dared to lower my lashes coquettishly.
“Now I am intrigued. As your friend, I insist you tell me.” He’d leaned a little toward me.
I’d met his eyes and trusted him with the truth. “I like the darkness. It’s friendly and comforting.”
His smile had dimmed, and I’d worried that I truly had let my words reveal too much. But when he spoke his voice had lost none of his kindness. “Poor Emily, I can imagine you’ve needed to be comforted these past months, and if this garden comforts you, day or night, then I say it is a wondrous place indeed!”
I’d felt a rush of relief, and of joy at his empathy. “Yes, you see, it is my escape and my oasis. Close your eyes and breathe deeply. You’ll forget that it’s night.”
“Well, all right. I will.” He’d closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. “What is that lovely scent? I didn’t notice it until now.”
“It’s the stargazer lilies. They’ve just begun to bloom,” I’d explained happily. “No, keep your eyes closed. Now, listen. Tell me what you hear.”
“Your voice, which sounds to me as sweet as the lilies smell.”
His compliment made my head light, but I’d scolded him with mock seriousness. “Not me, Arthur. Listen to the silence and tell me what you hear within it.”
He’d kept his eyes closed, tilted his head, and said, “Water. I hear the fountain.”
“Exactly! I especially like sitting here, hidden under this willow. It is as if I have found my own world where I can hear the sound of the water rushing from the fountain and imagine that I’m riding my bicycle again beside the lake with the wind in my hair and no one and nothing catching me.”
Arthur opened his eyes and met my gaze. “No one? No one at all? Not even a special friend?”
My whole body had felt flushed and I’d said, “Perhaps now I could imagine a friend joining me, and I do remember how you love to bicycle.”
He’d surprised me then by slapping his forehead. “Bicycle! That reminds me of how I found you here in the garden. I excused myself early so that I might return home to speak to Father before he goes to bed. I’d bicycled here, and was alone, mounting my bicycle to return home when I heard laughter.” He’d paused, and his voice had deepened. “It was the most beautiful laughter I had ever in my life heard. It seemed to be coming from the grounds behind the house. I saw the garden gate, opened it, and followed the sound to you.”
“Oh.” I’d breathed the word on a happy sigh, my face feeling even warmer. I’d said, “I am glad my laughter brought you to me.”
“Emily, your laughter didn’t simply bring me to you—it drew me to you.”
“I have another secret I could tell you,” I’d heard myself saying.
“Then that is another secret I will keep and treasure as my own,” he’d said.
“When I was laughing, I was thinking about how happy I was that you had been at dinner. I had been so terribly nervous before you sat beside me.” I’d held my breath, hoping I had not been what Mother would have called too forward with him.
“Well, then, I am very, very pleased to announce that I will be returning to your home for your dinner party Saturday, and that I will be escorting a lovely woman with whom I hope you will also become fast friends.”
My heart, already so battered and bruised, ached at his words. But I was learning the lesson of hiding my feelings well, so I put on the same interested expression and soft voice I used with Father and said, “Oh, how nice. It will be good to see Camille again. You should know she and I are already friends.”
“Camille?” He’d looked utterly baffled. And then I could see his expression shift to understanding. “Oh, you mean Samuel Elcott’s daughter, Camille.”
“Well, yes, of course,” I’d said, but already my bruised heart was beating more easily.
“Of course? Why do you say ‘of course’?”
“I thought it was understood that you were interested in courting Camille,” I’d said, and then felt my heart become lighter and lighter as he shook his head and replied with an empathic, “I don’t know how something I have no knowledge of could be
